Cold love
by TheWeirdDane
Summary: It takes time to change a relationship when it has been as bad as Finland and Russia's. Sometimes it takes more than just time. Finland is not quite aware if this is such a case. One thing is certain, though; Sweden is not happy about it. Rated M for smexy time between Finland and Russia. One-sided SuFin. 'Angst' should be a genre, too, I think, for last chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**A little something I'm writing for a friend. She basically wanted smut between Russia and Finland, but I can't write just one-shot smut with them. So this, and the next chapter, is basically how their relationship has changed over time. Oh, and btw; one-sided SuFin ahead.  
Also, from this Monday (July 1st) I will be gone for a month. I will probably finish this but my DenNor-fic won't be done before I come back. Unless, of course, my beta-reader is done before Sunday, but I doubt it; the chapters turned out pretty long. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, nor the characters. This is done for my own sake and the fandom. And also a friend, in this case.  
I hope you like it, Finnish friend I'm not sure I'm allowed to publish the name of!**

* * *

If anyone mentioned Russia or the Soviet Union or anything even _close_ to it while Finland listened, they were in for a rough treatment. Saying the name of a nation and man so hated in his presence was something he didn't take lightly; you would quickly find yourself in the need of the services a hospital could provide. The air between the nations was cool as their winters and if they, God forbid it, had to be in the same room – at World Meetings, for instance – they didn't look at or talked to each other. However, it seemed that Russia was a bit more open for putting an end to the conflict than Finland.

He would occasionally, and "accidentally", leave a bottle of vodka on the table if he left the meeting before Finland. It obviously served as some sort of peace offering. And although he hated to do it, the Finnish nation always took the bottle with him when he left. But as he said to anyone who dared ask if they were getting on better terms, he would say "No. But wasting vodka is like the eighth deadly sin."

And so, Finland got a quite considerable amount of booze in his house. He didn't drink it, however. It was against all reason and sanity to drink something offered to you by your enemy. It could be poisoned, designed to kill him.

The other Nordics tried to make Finland realize that Russia meant it, that he actually wanted to forget the bad times. Of course, they made sure to point out how awesome Finland had been and how many soldiers his own men had slaughtered. They deliberately exaggerated, just a bit, in the hope that it would make Finland give in a bit easier. All it did, though, was make the man huff and nod, silently saying "Of course I kicked that bastard's ass. He is not even worth the shit he produces."

Denmark, Norway and Iceland mostly let Sweden handle the usually calm and cheerful man but even so, a result was never seen. Sweden had confessed his love for him at one point but even if Finland didn't return Sweden's feelings, the confession had knocked the air out of him for a few days. The fact that someone loved him so deeply, wanted to do just about everything for him, was overwhelming. He had been clueless as to how to react. How did you answer? How did you tell an incredibly sweet and caring person that you wanted to have in your life, that you didn't feel like that? How did you, in a friendly and caring way, turn down a man that could enrich your life in so many ways, that you simply didn't love him that way?

Finland hadn't known for sure, so he had blabbered incoherently, fidgeting with his fingers and hair while looking around, sometimes scratching his arms. He was not sure he had gotten his point across once it became too much and he had had to leave the house. After that incident, Finland locked himself up in his own home for a few days. He didn't take or return calls and he didn't respond when the other Nordics came over for a visit, unnerved when the other happy half of their group was impossible to get in contact with. All they had heard had been the wind howling through the forest.

This action, that he hid, brought Sweden from the very concepts. You didn't have to be "lucky" to find him pacing around his living room with an even deeper frown than normally on his face. It was no rare to find him sitting in an armchair, his coffee long cold as he stared out in the wilderness just outside the window. He even almost forgot about disliking Denmark.

Meanwhile this took place, Norway, Denmark and Iceland had their to take care of. They were disheartened by how things worked out – or didn't work out – between Sweden and Finland but they knew that they couldn't do anything. It was Finland who had to take the first step and make it clear how he felt about his bigger neighbour in the West.

It got really complicated when an emergency meeting was announced just two days after Finland went "underground". Denmark slid a note under the front door to Finland's house where the date, clock and location for the meeting were written down but he didn't expect the Finn to show up. Neither did Norway, Iceland or Sweden.

The other Europeans had no idea what was happening in the cold North and they didn't understand why the three silent nations were even quieter than usually and Denmark didn't tell nearly as many jokes when they joined the meeting. America was about to ask why they all looked like wretches, but he didn't get to before Finland entered the room, looking just as much like a wretch as the rest of the Nordics. Looking from Finland to the others, the other Europeans kept silent. Not even America made a comment, and the Asians looked on in interest, though China looked slightly bored and uninterested by the deal.

"You," Finland then said, his voice hoarse from not having been used for days, and with a thin, shaking finger pointed at Sweden whose eyebrows rose considerably, "and I. Now. We need to talk." The room was silent, save for the sound of a chair scraping over the floor as Sweden got up. His face expressed nothing, whatsoever, although a twinkle of anxiety could be seen in his eyes.

An amethyst gaze rested upon him from he got up till he was out of the room. Then the Finn turned halfway around, but in the other direction. His eyes landed on Russia who looked nearly afraid.

"And you, you little shit. You're next so don't get any ideas, got it?" Russia nodded fiercely and an indeterminable expression moved onto his face as Finland slammed the door behind him and Sweden.

Silence once more enveloped the room as the nations looked from one to another. Germany cleared his throat, as always being the one to open the meeting, and began informing the others of why they had been gathered. But even as it was important, some of the nations were not quite able to hold focus. These were, unsurprisingly, the remaining Nordics and Russia. They were all glancing over at the door, waiting for Sweden and Finland to return. Wondering what the result of this conversation would be.

In the hallway, Finland gave a detailed and coherent explanation of what had went through his mind by Sweden's confession. He told, calmly and confidently, how he felt about him and reassured him that while the romantic love wasn't returned, the friendly love was. Very much so, even. Because even if Finland would never go out with Sweden, he couldn't imagine a life without him. There had to be a Sweden he could hang out with and there had to be a Sweden he could trust.

He was talking a lot and he hoped that Sweden was following but if he wasn't, he didn't say so. He just stood there, scrutinizing the Finn as he explained, taking his hands into work and gesturing wildly. The meaning was quite clear. Finland didn't reciprocate his feelings but he would still love to be his friend. Sweden could live with that. Definitely. A life without Finland would be a sad one, he concluded for the hundredth time this century and opened his arms to let the Finn hug him tightly, which he did. The small boy was so warm and tiny in his grip, felt so very fragile. And it was clear that he had lost weight. In those few days that Finland had excluded himself from the world, he had lost at least six pounds.

"Fin," he said in a questioning tone, and Finland nodded against his chest. It felt… good. He liked being hugged by the bigger Swede.

"Can I… mh. Can I still visit ya?"

"Of course." Finland smiled into the sturdy chest. Silly man. Then he pulled away, carefully sneaking out of the tight grip. "We'll set ground rules later, when we come home. Right now, I have a shit to talk with." With those words, he turned around and opened the door for Sweden who entered the room without a word and without a sign that he had just talked with the love of his life. He sat down between Denmark and Norway, not at all reacting to the eager looks from the first. His eyes were focused on Finland and would be so until the man had left the room again.

"Venäja. Nyt."

Russia instantly got up from his chair and walked towards Finland. He was almost tackled to the ground by Belarus but Hungary managed to hold her back, her strong hands tightly gripping the other woman's upper arms. The door was closed once more, leaving Belarus growling and cursing at the brunette female and the other nations confused, even slightly anxious. They couldn't be sure how this would go. Finland seemed to still hold a grudge against Russia, even after all these years. It was almost a century since the Winter War ended. It was odd that he hadn't moved on yet. Russia seemed to have, even if it was only a bit.

The sound of a body being slammed against the wall echoed throughout the hallway and the nearest rooms. Denmark held Sweden back with the help of Norway and Iceland, and Ukraine ran to Hungary to help her hold the other sister in check. None could hear exactly what was said but it quickly became clear that Finland was in control. His friendly voice wasn't so friendly anymore. It was harsh and downright mean. America's eyes went wide and he stared at the Nordics.

"What the hell is up with him?" As if one person, they all shrugged.

They weren't really sure what it was with Finland but he could be the sweetest person to exist as well as he could be Satan himself.

"Okay, now you listen here, you little shit," Finland growled at the Russian who looked surprised. He could easily dislodge from the Finn but he knew it wouldn't help anything so he might as well not try. It couldn't pass his attention, though, that the other had lost a lot of weight. His hands were thinner and not as strong as they once were, and his cheeks had become hollow, his collarbones more outstanding. He had lost that cute chubbiness Russia always found himself attracted to.

"People want us to fix our shit but you know what?"

"What?"

"I won't. You took eleven fucking per cent of my country, and that territory was pretty fucking important. That shitty peace treaty cost me more land than the war itself, and people expect me to be all cool and composed about it? They must be out their fucking minds."

He had a hand balled in Russia's shirt, pressing him up against the wall with flashing eyes and lips pulled back from the teeth, much like an angry dog.

"It wasn't eleven per cent," Russia argued, "only about ten. Besides, you killed roughly five times more soldiers than I did, and-"

"You had 'roughly' _six_ times more soldiers than me. Every time we shot one, you sent another wave with murderous psychopaths."

Russia couldn't deny that. His army had been way bigger than Finland's, and furthermore far better equipped. In every way, his army had been superior to Finland's but he had been nastily surprised by how strong and devoted to their country and honour the Finns were. He had never seen anything like it and it had totally taken him by surprise.

Even better than having a bigger and stronger army, though, was the knowledge that he driven the small Finn insane. Not too much but enough that the smile disappeared for a decade and his eyes had lost that happy shine. He knew from Estonia that Finland had isolated himself from the rest of the world, just as he had refused to talk with anyone. He even skipped meals several days in a row, vodka being the only thing to console him.

Russia had effectively broken Finland, even if it had only been temporarily. However, it seemed that Finland hadn't gotten fully back. He was still skinny and the eyes had yet to retrieve the cheerful glint to the same degree as before.

Being the victor had been great. He had won the war and that was the important thing. A cold, insane smile slid over his lips as he looked down at the much smaller Finn who only got more enraged by this.

"Don't you fucking dare smile at me, you little shit!"

"But you are so much smaller than me, da? So you can't call me little."

"I'll call you whatever the hell I want, you understand?"

Russia shook his head and Finland pulled him a bit away from the wall before slamming him back against it with surprising strength. His eyes burned into Russia's, insanity shining back at him. The anxiety was long gone from the other's face.

"So what do you really want, little Finland?"

"First of all, don't call me little! I'm taller than your lunatic sister!"

A nearly invisible twitch went over Russia's face and his fingers flexed repeatedly.

"Only when you wear that silly little hat of yours." The tone was still light and childish but the eyes showed that he was far from amused. "But what do you want?"

"Stop leaving me bottles of vodka," the Finn answered immediately, not yet letting go of Russia, "I won't drink it and you just don't waste vodka. It should be a sin."

"Da, I agree with you on that! Vodka shouldn't be wasted!"

"So keep it to yourself and don't pretend our relationship is getting better. Because you know what? It isn't." Following these words, Finland spat on the ground, right in front of Russia's boots. Russia didn't as much as bat an eye.

"You're a fucking eyesore and I hope the rest of the world soon team up against you. Would serve you right." The grip slacked a tiny bit but not enough to let the other get out of it.

"Do you want to see me die, Finland?"

"The whole fucking world wants to see you dead," the Finn answered and finally let go of the other. "And I would gladly give you the first shot."

With those words, Finland turned around and stomped out of the building. Russia stared after him, his head curiously cocked a bit. The insane smile was still in place but the violet eyes were cold. When the front door slammed, he turned on the heel and leisurely trotted towards the meeting room. He opened the door, humming lightly, and walked towards his seat.

"Where 's Fin`?" The stern voice was not hard to place, nor was the way of talking.

"He left," Russia answered and turned his head to the side, finding Sweden glaring at him from his seat. Denmark looked from one to the other with wary eyes. He knew that if anyone disliked Russia more than Finland, it had to be Sweden. Albeit no one could hate Russia more than Finland did. That gave Sweden a second place.

"Wheret'? 'N why?"

"How should I know? I don't even care."

"Russia, maybe you shouldn't talk about him," Denmark suggested and pulled the Swede back in his chair when he made ready to get up. "We have a meeting going on here."

"But we never accomplish anything at the meetings, da?" Russia stated, truthfully, and looked over at his Danish friend. "Why break the tradition? That wouldn't be nice to Sweden. He loves traditions." Sweden didn't get back at him but his glare, if possible, intensified.

"Just as much as he loves little Finland~"

"Shut up."

"Oh?" Russia's eyes gleamed playfully again as he turned fully towards the Swede. None of the other nations spoke, too focused and alerted by the two huge nations who clearly had something going on.

"Is it possible you love little Finland more than your precious traditions?"

"I said, shut up." Sweden had gotten free of Denmark's grip and now stood from his chair, blue eyes boring into the Russian's. Germany tried to call them to peace but in vain.

"Why is he such a touchy subject? Is it because he doesn't love you back? Does it hurt you that much?"

Sweden didn't answer but his jaws tensed, his hands curled into balls and his biceps flexed a bit. Denmark also got up, sending a warning glance at Russia.

"Russia, this is not fun. He is very sad about it, so please, let it slide."

Russia waved a hand at him, like he was nothing but an annoying fly he had to chase away from his favourite food. His eyes glistened.

"But this _is_ fun. Very fun. Sweden, how much do you really like him?" He still got no answer and this annoyed him. He decided to try a different angle, although the subject stayed the same.

"Enough to help him? Enough to send him support again, this time in the correct size and time? Would you assist him a new war, even if it would be against me?"

"'course," the Swede instantly replied, alarm clocks going off in his head. Russia was talking about war. Almost sounding as if he was actually planning one. "I'm not afraid of ya."

Not the reaction he wanted. Russia got another bit annoyed. But he hid this behind the insane smile and tilted head.

"What would you do if I took him? What would you do if I forced him to be mine?"

"Kill ya."

Russia's words didn't need any form of consideration. There was no need to think of what he would do in that situation. Sweden had seen Finland taken from him once. That had been more than enough. There was no way he would allow it again. At least not without punishment.

He slowly walked around the table, Denmark trailing behind him in an attempt to stop the upcoming fight. His steps were measured, his gaze stiff and unwavering. Russia would be his goal. You just didn't talk about Finland like that to him.

A wicked smile crossed his features. Sweden was finally beginning to react as wanted. "What if he fell in love with _me_? What if he would prefer _me_ over _you_?" What then? How mad would Sweden go? How far down in sorrow would he sink? That would be fun… Russia would like to see that. A miserable Sweden who didn't know what to do anymore, crying for Finland while the man was perfectly fine with Russia as his lover.

That would be fun. That had to happen.

Sweden's hit fell perfectly on the other's jaw but he didn't as much as stumble. Quite the contrary. Russia's smile grew wider while Belarus cursed the Swede, screaming and trying to get free to help her brother.

"Fin would never do that."

"Really?"

Another fist was sent at his face but this time, it was caught before it even got close.

"I believe you have heard about the Stockholm syndrome?" Sweden's eyes narrowed, the blue glare intensifying again behind the glasses. Of course he had heard of that. It had name after his capital! "He could fall in love with me. I could make it happen, da."

"No."

That would never happen, Finland loathed Russia. There was no chance he would ever fall in love with him. It was ridiculous; Sweden shouldn't get worked up about it.

Denmark grabbed his other hand as he was about to punch Russia again.

"This will be enough," he said and his voice was scarily serious, "cut it out, Russia. Swe, sit back down." It took a few seconds for the nations to do as he said. Russia was the first to turn around and he slowly walked back to his seat. Hungary and Ukraine tryingly slacked the grip on Belarus and while she instantly sought to Russia's side she didn't do anything to anyone. At most, she sent a deadly glare at the back of Sweden's head as he also marched back to his seat. On the way, Denmark saw that he sent a text message to Finland. It said '_Are you okay? Did Russia do anything to you? I'll gladly hunt him down if he as much as touched you. Shall I?'_

Sweden was surprisingly chatty when he texted. He even used emoticons sometimes. It was very odd to receive a message that ended with a big and happy smiley from him. However, it was something you got used to.

The rest of the meeting continued in relative peace, although America and some of the Europeans were rather nervous about the on-going conflict that was seemingly between not only Finland and Russia but also Sweden and Russia. And there was something between Sweden and Finland as well. Prussia made a joke about this being "the weirdest love triangle since me, Hungary and Austria!" He was instantly rewarded with glares from all of the Nordics, Russia, Austria _and_ Hungary. The woman's knuckles cracked.

Prussia was the first to leave the meeting as soon as his brother declared nothing more could be done. Once again, they hadn't gotten a result. Hungary and Austria were quick to follow the albino.

The last to leave were the Nordics. Denmark, Norway and Iceland stood by Sweden and made sure he wouldn't do something stupid when Russia passed by them.

"It was fun again today," he chirped and looked at Sweden a bit longer than the rest, "although I had hoped to see Sweden crawl at my feet for mercy. Oh well, there's still time for that~ See you 'round, Daniya!"

"Drop det!" Denmark snarled to Sweden, whose eyes flashed dangerously, and nodded at Russia, forcing forth a happy smile. It faded the instant Russia left.

They stood there for a minute or two, all attention on Sweden as he sent the Russian's back a murderous glare. No one should joke about his Fin. It might be that his feelings weren't returned but that was no excuse for going around and mocking him. If he got any idea, just the slightest hint, that Russia had plans of doing anything to or with Finland, he wouldn't hesitate to hunt him down. Just as he had promised.

When they drove home, Sweden received a text message from Finland that read:

'_I'm fine. He didn't touch me. I'll take care of him.'_ Cold and right to the bone, Sweden quickly sent a "Just say it and I'll be at his heels" back before leaning back in his seat. For a change, they let Denmark drive, and he surprised them by doing so safely and without running a single red light.

"Stop being so overprotective, Swe," Norway suddenly said, speaking for the first time this day. Sweden stared at him, silently waiting for an elaboration. "Finland doesn't like it, and he will feel as if you're choking him with your love. It will end badly for you."

"Agreed," Denmark remarked and looked at them in the rearview mirror. "He can handle himself and won't like it if you try to take care of everything for him. He's a proud man and nation."

Sweden looked over at Iceland, clearly expecting him to say something, too. The man didn't, though. He just nodded to show he agreed with the others.

He looked down at his cell phone when another text message beeped in. It was from Finland, as he had expected.

'_I can take care of myself, Sweden. Stop treating me like a child.'_

"…Mh. Ya're right." The cell phone went back into his pocket and it was silent for the rest of the ride, much like its owner.

* * *

**Translations:  
**_Venäjä = Russia_ (Finnish)  
_Nyt = Now/right now_ (Finnish) (this confuses me so much, because it means 'new' in Danish)  
_Da = Yes_ (Russian)  
_Daniya = Denmark_ (Russian)  
_Drop det! = Stop it/cut it out!_ (Danish)**  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Lookie here, they're making up. Aaaw. **

* * *

Another decade passed, and though it seemed that Finland was _beginning_ to ease up to Russia's peace offerings, it was dubious how true this was. Finland was the kind of guy who could be sweet and loving in one moment and a raging monster the next.

Obviously, Sweden hadn't forgiven Russia for his way of talking about Finland at the last meeting. When Finland returned from a two-day trip to Russia, he had a few bruises and his left eye was twitching uncomfortably much but both of them were glistening with happiness. Blood was on his hands but he didn't have a single wound.

He returned to his house and found Sweden sitting on the porch, snoring and all wrapped up in a thick blanket. Finland smiled widely and gently nudged the sleeping man who woke in an instant.

"Hey, Swe," Finland chirped and unlocked the door before stepping inside, allowing Sweden to follow with stiff and stumbling legs. Turning on the lights in the house, the smaller man went to the sink in the kitchen to wash his hands. Sweden stared, obviously concerned.

"Fin, what-"

"Don't worry, it's Russia's blood, not mine," Finland answered before Sweden even got to finish his question. "I'll explain it later. Could you be a darling and call the other Nordics for me? I want them here when I tell you. It's so exciting!"

Sweden nodded and walked into the living room to make the call. There might or might not have sneaked a hint of pink onto his cheeks but he acted like nothing. Truth be told, he didn't know what to tell the others and didn't know what Finland would have to explain. He just knew he had to convince them to come as soon as possible, because Finland seemed to really mean it.

Just as he finished the call, he could hear the water be turned on upstairs, and the cheerful sound of Finland singing reached his ears. The smallest shadow of a smile graced his face as he sat down in the couch. Only then did he realize the state of the room.

Garbage. Garbage everywhere. Empty bottles of vodka were scattered all over the floor, accompanied by crumbled and crushed up bags of chips and liquorice. There was a small hole in the wall next to the television which had moved almost three feet since he had last been here. Was that blood in the hole? Sweden frowned and got up from the couch to study it. Definitely blood. And the mark of a fist.

It seemed Finland had had his own ways of dealing with his inability to cope with Sweden's feelings and how he felt. Sweden frowned and studied the mark better, finding that indeed, it _was_ Finland's hand that had left it. He looked down the wall and found bloody trails all the way down to the floor. Just how hard had Finland had it?

His eyes wandered around the rest of the room, finding one of the arm chairs slashed and with stuffing coming out.

Shuffling steps became audible behind him and Sweden turned around, finding Finland standing by the foot of the stairs, a towel around his waist and another ruffling his hair. He had lost so much weight… his ribs were visible and his hips stood out clearer than they should. A long and deep scar ran from his right shoulder to his waist, crossing his stomach. He looked surprised, for whatever reason. He had even more bruises on his chest and his back.

"Why are you standing up, Swe? You can sit down, feel at home! In fact, I thought we could talk about those ground rules today! Did you call the others yet? I don't think we have enough time to talk before they arrive, I don't know, how much do you have to say?"

"What hav' ya been doin'?" Sweden didn't answer but instead pointed at the torn chair and bloody hole. Finland leaned a bit forward so he could see past the bigger man's body.

"Oh. Well, I had some frustrations to get out of the system, y'know? It's not good to keep them inside and you know me, I tend to be rather, eh, violent at times. I didn't have any weapons around so I couldn't really vent out my aggressions as I wanted. But I did have the big butcher knife in the kitchen! Just be glad I didn't use that in the aftermath of the war!"

"Ya didn't even think 'bout it, did ya?" Sweden asked and instantly marched towards the Finn, his face suddenly lit with fear, and grabbed his shoulders, looking up and down his arms, then his body in general.

"Of course not, silly! Russia gave me enough scars, why would I want to make more? But seriously, don't worry! I'm fine now, and I promise to clean up here! Hmm." He frowned lightly and put a hand under his chin as he looked around the mess. Then he looked up at Sweden and their eyes locked while a sweet smile spread over his face.

"You couldn't help me, could you? I'm sorry to ask this of you after… well, after I left you like that and all but I would appreciate it greatly! Besides, I don't think the others would like to come over to such a mess!"

The Swede looked down at him with his ever hard glare, even if it was somehow softer, and his cheeks were tinted a faint pink. Was it just him or had Finland taken the heat from the bath with him?

"Mh. If ya get dressed first."

Finland looked down at himself and blushed.

"A-ha-ha, of course, Swe, sorry 'bout that! I wasn't trying to… to lure you or tempt you or anything!" He laughed nervously before dashing up the stairs again. Sweden looked after him, watched him disappear into his bedroom before he began cleaning.

His heart was thumping against his rib cage and his mind oddly empty of thoughts. He gathered the bigger shards of glass and found a kitchen towel which he put them onto before throwing them out. Next was the bloody marks and the Swede had to rub them pretty hard before they disappeared. And they didn't do so completely. The only sign of them was a faint pink stain that he couldn't remove. He got up from his kneeling position and glanced over at the chair. Impossible to repair before the others got over.

The door was slammed open and Denmark stepped inside.

Speaking of the devil.

He stood there for a little while, his smile missing – Sweden figured he had assumed something bad had happen to Finland – before his eyes fell on Sweden. Then the smile was back in place, though with a shadow of mock.

"What the hell is going on here? What's wrong? Where's Finland? Why is the floor covered in garbage and- … what happened to the defenseless chair?"

"Fin's goin' t' explain," Swede simply said and walked into the kitchen to empty the bucket of water that was no longer clear and fresh but instead dirtied by the blood.

"Dude, where the hell did you get pink water? Do you have a gay shop nearby or something?" The Dane grinned widely but it was soon wiped off his face when Norway grabbed his tie as he had done every so often and pulled the loud nation towards the couch.

"Shut up and just wait."

Iceland trailed after the others and raised an eyebrow by the garbage.

"Don't tell me you've become Fin's maid or something," Denmark gasped after having gotten off his tie so he could breathe properly again.

"If that was to happen," Norway said with a plain face, "I'm sure Swe would be dressed in something else than his regular clothes. It's Finland, after all."

"Definitely!" the man in question chirped and entered the living room, catching them by surprise. None of them had heard him approach. "I would get him to wear a full maid outfit! Wouldn't that be fun?"

Sweden could feel his face heat up and he swiftly turned around to wash his hands. Denmark practically cried with laughter while Norway and Iceland looked like they had eaten a whole lemon. Finland simply smiled widely and hummed as he got his guests various snacks in form of his favourite liquorice and some biscuits.

While he walked around, the others had time to study his skinny frame and the many bruises his T-shirt exposed. His legs were covered up in a pair of torn jeans.

He carried the bowl into the room and waited for Sweden to join them. When that happened, the Dane's laughter died out but he had yet to get his breathing completely right. Slowly, the Finn's smile disappeared, just a bit, and he got up from the battered chair, instead walking around the room.

"Okay, so, uhm, you know I've had something going on with Russia for the past few hundred years."

"Please, even America knows," Denmark said and Finland nodded, then shrugged. He was about to continue but the Dane interrupted him, pointing at the bruises and asking what had happened. Finland answered that he had just 'paid Russia a friendly visit to convince him that Finland was a motherfucking badass country that you just didn't mess with' and added that it didn't go quite as planned, smiling sweetly as if this was the most normal thing to do. Then he went on.

"Well, it wasn't exactly a secret. Oh, anyway, it's probably going to be a huge surprise to you guys but I've made up with him. We've finally agreed to forgive each other and try to be friendly towards one another, and-"

_Crash_

Sweden didn't hold a glass in his hands anymore. Instead, he held a bunch of screwed up shards between which blood began to flow. Finland gasped but the others just sent him a glance, clearly having expected such a reaction as soon as the Finn began to talk about getting a better relationship with Russia. Sweden could not be happy to hear that.

_What if he fell in love with me?_

"Swe, are you okay…?"

"Go on." His face revealed nothing at all and his gaze was as hard and scrutinizing as always but he could feel his heart start its rapid pace again. Please, let them not become any closer than they are now!

Finland looked hesitant but he continued nonetheless.

"Well, Russia said that he would like to become my friend, and he thought we would actually make great buddies."

"He used the word 'comrade', didn't he?"

Finland nodded in defeat towards the Dane.

"He did… I just don't want to use that word. Bad associations, you know. But anyway," he quickly glanced over at the Swede who sat completely still, not having moved an inch since he crushed the glass, "he said that he wanted to know me better and suggested we could go out for a drink or something together."

"People always bond better over alcohol!" Denmark grinned and held up his own glass, even if it was filled with water, not alcohol. Finland sent him a wide smile.

"Exactly! I figured that maybe it would be a good idea. I mean, it's no good to continue as we have for the last century. It would probably result in another war sooner or later, and that would be silly. So we have agreed to fix it while we still can. I just wanted to tell you guys so you didn't get a heart attack if you saw us together at a bar or something! What do you think?"

_I believe you have heard about the Stockholm syndrome?_

This was the beginning. Russia was slowly pulling Finland in, manipulating him for… for whatever reason.

Sweden stared at the Finn, his jaw tense and his grip around the broken glass tightening. He barely noticed the stinging pain and the falling blood. What did he think? Oh, did Finland really want to open that can of worms? Should Sweden really begin to tell him what he thought of the idea?

That would mean he would have to tell about the meeting and what Russia had done after he, Finland, had left. That would be embarrassing. Sweden had reacted instinctively, out of love, and it would be embarrassing to admit that to Finland, the receiver of his affection. Maybe Finland would even push him away because of that? Sweden knew that nothing would happen, and Sweden knew that Finland knew he knew, so maybe he would see it as another, sneaky attempt of getting close?

Sweden was silent, let the others speak first.

"I think it's a great idea!" Denmark exclaimed, smiling brightly and opened his arms wide up in an inviting gesture. Finland remained standing, however, but his grin widened and he raised his glass in the direction of the Dane.

"I mean," he continued, "you've been sulking and downright mean since the war and even though I know you didn't intend to take it out on us, that's what you did. I think it's awesome you are beginning to make better relations to Russia. He's a pretty nice guy once you get to know him and get used to his… special… state of mind. I quite like him."

'_Then why don't _you_ become better friends with him?'_ Sweden growled at the Dane in his mind, absolutely disapproving of Finland's idea.

"I don't think it could harm," Norway mused and looked at the Finn thoughtfully, putting his glass down on the table. "It's always good to have positive or at least neutral relations to strong and important nations. As it was before, you would be the first victim if Russia was to start a war or annex anyone."

Finland nodded eagerly. That was true; if they managed to become friends, it was less likely that Russia would attack him in a possible war.

Iceland was next but he didn't say anything right away. He shrugged and took a swig of his Coke, letting the bubbling liquid roll over his tongue slowly before he answered.

"I'm not opposed to the idea. But I think you better tread carefully. You never know quite where you have Russia and one wrong move might ruin everything. I'd advise you to be extra careful around him, at least until you've gotten good friends."

The Finn nodded, this time slower. Well, that was true, too. Russia was always hard to read and if you didn't do it correctly, it could have fatal consequences.

Last one to state his opinion was Sweden. He stared hard at Finland who didn't cower but simply sat back down in his torn chair, pulling out some of the stuffing and rolling it between his fingers.

"Well, Swe? What do you think?" He had to ask. He had an idea what the man would answer but he had to be sure. Besides, it wasn't like it would matter much, anyway. He had made his choice and he intended to follow it, he was just curious as to what the others thought.

_What if he fell in love with me? _

"I don't like it." '_Not at all_.' This was just as Finland had expected and he chuckled nervously.

"Swe, look, it's not like I've forgotten what he's done, not at all, I just think it's better to move on before he decides it's too late and also begins to hate me so fiercely again."

"But he hurt ya so badly." '_And thereby also me._' "He took a big 'n important part of yar country 'n made ya pay a huge amount of money. He's unfair 'n he's evil. He's toyin' with ya."

"He's not toying with me, Swe. He was honest and genuine when he suggested we became friends."

"It's only 'cause he wants ya t' forget what he did so ya'll become one with him. That's all he wants. He wants ya."

The others looked intently at Sweden and Finland as they talked, argued, and they could easily see a hard glimpse move into Finland's eyes. It was obvious that no matter what Sweden said, Finland wouldn't change his mind. Then it seemed nearly stupid to talk about it. Finland should know it would only upset the Swede. Denmark also put down his glass. Iceland sipped another bit of Coke before placing the can on the table as well.

"He wants everyone, Swe. It's not only me. Besides, he promised not to go after me specifically."

"Ya're too naïve. Russia's words are worth nothing, he can't be trusted! Ya said yarself he's not even worth the shit he produces!"

"And he isn't. But that doesn't mean he can't become better!"

"He's an incorrigible lunatic!" Sweden said and his voice was momentarily raised. Only just enough to be audible, yet enough to make the others' eyes widen. They had never heard Sweden raise his voice when talking with Finland.

"Please, Fin," his voice went back to normal, "I don't like it."

"There's nothing to do about it, Swe. I've made my choice, I just wanted to hear your opinions." He sounded genuinely sorry but his voice was firm and his violet gaze unyielding.

Sweden got up from his seat, straightening into his full and rather freaky height.

"I won't allow it. He'll only harm ya. Ya're not going t' make better relations with him."

For a second, Finland's jaws dropped and his eyes widened. Then he also got up and he crossed his arms over the chest.

"Really? Try me. At least he's not holding me down and forbidding me to do things."

"That'll come if ya hang 'round him. I won't let that happen, and ya're not going there!" he added and grabbed Finland's arm as he marched towards the front door. Denmark instantly got up from the couch, ready to take action if the situation escalated.

Finland whirled around and slapped his cheek, hard. The sound reverberated in the otherwise deadly silent room. Denmark, Norway and Iceland watched the scene with wide eyes, and Norway had a hand on the arm rest beside him, ready to push himself up in case help was needed.

"You can't do anything to stop me. You're not my lover and you're not my mom, either. Let go." Finland's voice was uncharacteristically low and shaking. A clever man would obey him in the blink of an eye. Sweden wasn't a clever man. His glare turned harder and so did his grip. The blood left considerable stains.

"I'm yar friend. I only want the best for ya. Does that mean nothing?" The tone got Finland's eyes to soften for a moment before he grabbed Sweden's hand and forced him to let go.

"You want to control me and hold me down. You're depriving me of my freedom. That means I can't live with you."

"He's going t' hurt ya. Badly."

"Then how about you be there for me when I come back with a battered body and a torn mind?" Finland snapped and turned around, rushing out of the door without another word. Sweden looked after him, feeling his heart ache with every rapid beat. Yet, it felt like it was slowing down. Slower and slower it beat in his chest until he was unsure if it even _did_ beat.

"Ya have no idea what ya're askin'."

As he also turned around, he found the remaining Nordics still there. He had completely forgotten about them.

"Mh. Ya can go," he said and slowly walked towards the shards of his glass. The others didn't say a thing but did get up from the couch.

"Shouldn't we… help you or something?" Denmark offered and picked up the whole glasses, carrying them into the kitchen where he fetched the same kitchen towel that Sweden had used before. He handed it to Sweden who took it without looking up.

"Nh. I can do this myself." Norway and Iceland looked at each other before silently tugging Denmark with them.

"We'll come over tomorrow!" the Norwegian stated just before the door closed behind them, leaving Sweden alone.

He listened to the silence for a few seconds before he allowed his hands to shake. Another couple of seconds passed and he allowed his breathing to follow suit. A minute of silence later, he gripped the cloth tightly and he let out a deep roar of frustration, a roar of pain.

Why?! _Why_ did Finland have to go and do that!? He very well knew what Sweden thought of Russia, there was absolutely no need to rub it in his face! How _dared_ he!

Maybe this was all a part of Russia's plan? Maybe Russia had wanted Sweden to react just like that so Finland wouldn't want to spend time with him, but rather Russia?

The mere thought was enough to make him send a fist into the floor. It left a considerable crack. _Fuck_ Russia and his ridiculous ability to win people over on his side! _Fuck_ him and his propaganda!

Sweden cleaned the rest of the house. Seemingly calm and composed, he walked around to vacuum the floor and he managed to scrub the wall completely clean of blood. He made a quick and only temporary repair of the chair before he left. He had no key so he couldn't lock it. But he figured that maybe Finland wouldn't mind if Russia spontaneously came over and used his house.

Sweden went back home. He didn't hear from Finland for a long time and although it felt like a dagger in his heart every time he thought of him, it was impossible not to do so every single day. What had he done… he had practically hunted Finland directly into the arms of Russia, a man he despised and wished dead for everything in the world. It was outrageous, it shouldn't be possible!

Meanwhile, over some years, Finland and Russia's relationship got better. Much, much better. They spent more and time together, aiding their friendship with alcohol. Finland would complain about Sweden every so often and Russia made sure not to be mean and hostile when commenting on him but rather give Finland ideas to how he could maybe fix up their relationship. If he wanted to, of course.

"Like Hell I will!" Finland snarled one evening when they were together at a bar in Russia. It showed the alcohol was a bit cheaper here than in the Nordic countries, so they had agreed to meet here. Russia had subtly offered him to stay over for a few days so the money and time wouldn't be wasted. Finland had yet to give an answer to that one. As much as he appreciated the offer, he wasn't comfortable enough around Russia to sleep in his house yet. The Russian had shown utmost understanding of this.

"But seriously! Who does he think he is?! He can't just _say_ that! I mean, I like him, he's a cool guy, but I value my freedom more than anything, so don't he dare go 'No. I d'n't want ya t' b' with R'ssia'. Seriously!" He made a mean impression of Sweden that got Russia to laugh childishly and get him another drink.

"Thanks, pal. Wow, sorry, I'm talking a lot again, aren't I? Waah, please, talk, talk, talk, I don't want to bore you or anything!"

"It's okay, little Finland-"

"Still no nickname relating to my size. I promise you, I'm a lot bigger than you might assume." He winked at Russia, for a moment feeling a strong devil-may-care approach, and he couldn't bring himself to give a fuck about what Sweden might or might not think of him. Russia raised an eyebrow.

"Is that really so?"

"Mmhmmm," Finland hummed and downed his sixth glass of vodka. He wasn't even tipsy yet. "I swear, my body in general might not be big but some limbs don't care about that!"

"You're starting to sound inviting. You better stop before it gets out of hand, da?"

Finland shrugged and ordered another round.

"Meh, whatever. But seriously. I can't care about what Sweden thinks of me right now. If he wants to control me like that, he can't have me! I refuse to be under _anyone's_ rule again!" Here he glanced up at Russia, making it absolutely clear that this also applied to him.

"Couldn't it be that Sweden is lonely without you?"

"As if. He's got Denmark, Norway and Iceland. Plenty of company."

"Not like that." Russia took his hand and an intense cold instantly surged through him. He tried to pull away but in vain. Their eyes connected, violet meeting violet. "He loves you, only you. I don't think the other Nordics are good enough company for him after he met you and realized his feelings for you."

Finland swallowed heavily after a few seconds under the heavy gaze. Then he turned his head away.

"So what? Nothing's going to happen between us, anyway, so he might as well get used to it."

"You could at least treat him nicely. He only wants the best for you."

"He doesn't want me to be friends with you," Finland argued and looked over at him. Russia merely chuckled.

"Of course not. He hates me just as much as you used to. Let me guess, he doesn't think I can change just like that, da?"

Finland nodded and smiled at the waiter as he brought them their new round of vodka. They had gotten a few shocked looks when it became clear to the other guests and the workers that they drank it pure. They were even surer that the others were running bets on when they would collapse. It was fun, really.

"Yup. He's so sure you only want to hurt me, and that you only want me to become one with you, and so on and on and on," he sneered, rolling his eyes.

"Well, seeing as I've been an ass to you in the past it's only reasonable he's worried, da?"

"Sure, but you haven't been for, like, a century or more. We're on better terms now, aren't we?"

"Of course we are! I said I was ready to become friends with you, so that's what we're going to do!" Russia raised his glass in a toast and Finland followed suit, grinning. They clinked their glasses together and downed the content in one long swig.

They continued to talk for a long time, even so long that the majority of the customers left. At the late hour of the night, a very intoxicated woman got over to their table, or rather, laid across it on her back and stared up at them, giggling uncontrollably.

"You gaaaaais are soooo hot, like, oh my god. You should tooootally make out, oh my god, that would be sooo cute, hehehe~"

Finland and Russia stared down at her for a few seconds, then at each other and laughed.

"Poland in disguise?" Russia suggested. Finland shrugged and poked the woman's breast. He_ was_ intoxicated and way more daring than usually. The woman squeaked and giggled again, squirming under Finland's touch as it became harder.

"Nope. They're real. There's no chance this is Poland," he answered Russia with a crooked smile. Russia laughed loudly, not as childishly as it often was but a tad deeper and more serious, somehow. Like he really meant it.

The human continued to blabber about him and Russia making out and she even tried to pull them together but they hastily got free of her grip. That would just be weird. They had just gotten to the point of neutrality – or were they even moving towards friendship already? – so making out was totally out of the question.

At least, that was what Finland thought until he saw of flicker of curiosity in Russia's glistening violet eyes. The smallest flicker of interest that revealed his mind.

Finland's heart skipped a bit but his smile was still crooked as he let a foot rush up and down Russia's leg and heard a low exhale of air from him. Oh, really…? Russia was interested in that? Well, wasn't this something new.

Yet, this was an unseemly place for that kind of activity. They would have to go somewhere else; there was no way he was going to go at it here. Besides, they would have to set a mood first, and-

… Wait. Was he actually considering doing it with Russia? He couldn't believe it.

And yet, here he was, fisting Russia's shirt and sending him a look he was quite sure was seductive.

"How about you and I go fulfil this sweet woman's wish?" he whispered and felt adrenaline rush through him. This was not good, he shouldn't do this; it was bad, bad, bad! Yet, it was oddly satisfying to see the other's lips form a smile.

"What about your little Swede?"

Finland's eyes smouldered with annoyance but he kept his cool and simply forced Russia to stand.

"He's not mine. I'm not his. I can do whatever the hell I want. Bitch."


	3. Chapter 3

**I wrote the smut. Ooops. **

* * *

Russia's lips were still curled in a not-quite-nice-but-not-really-mad-either smile when he followed Finland out of the bar and down the streets. None of them knew exactly where they were going but Finland could guarantee that Russia would not regret this. But would he, Finland? It wasn't that he liked Russia like that, he didn't love him. Far from. He could easily still find the old and often used hatred for the other so why the hell would he do what he was about to do?

He couldn't give himself an answer but when he pushed Russia into an old and empty house, he found that he didn't need one, either. There was nothing in his heart that told him no. if he wanted this, he should do it. He wasn't accountable to anyone for what he did. Least of all Sweden. It was none of that man's business what Finland did in his spare time.

If Finland wanted to fuck a drunk Russia when he was also a bit drunk, then by god, would he do so. It would most likely have been the same with Sweden.

Probably.

Maybe.

He blamed the alcohol.

Not important! He chuckled darkly as he led them into what must have been the kitchen. There was an entire wall where different bigger appliances, like fridge, dishwasher and so on, must have been but now there was nothing. Perfect.

They looked around and found a small counter and some few chairs around a big table. They looked on the verge of rotting so they were out of the question for Finland and Russia's… fun time.

Finland still had a tight grip of Russia's shirt and pulled him closer, their eyes meeting and both pairs gleaming. They were a hundred and ten per cent clear of what was going to happen.

"Who have you done it with?" Finland asked Russia and moved them towards the counter. He swung himself onto it without a problem, showing that he was surprisingly agile. The marble was cold and started him a bit but the haze of alcohol took the worst. He was now a little taller than Russia, so the bulkier man had to look up at him when answering. The Finn sat with his legs spread widely and leant a bit forward, looking way more masculine than Russia could remember ever having seen him.

"None of your business, Finland." A playful smile tugged at his lips when he leaned up to kiss Finland. The Finn let him do it but didn't return it. He simply let the other kiss him until he was tired of not getting a response.

"Just a name," Finland teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and his hot breath rolled over Russia's lower face. "I wouldn't have a chance to get it confirmed. You could say about any name and I would believe you."

"Even if I said Denmark?"

The Finn looked surprised but nodded. Denmark was outgoing enough that he could do such a thing. It was acceptable. Besides, he had always thought that Denmark and Russia were really, really good friends. Maybe even a bit more. Friends with advantages, perhaps?

"Interesting. How is he?" Finland leant down a bit to touch his lips to Russia's, allowing himself to relish in the cold that seemed to occupy his body in that second. Goose bumps instantly covered his skin. Russia practically purred when Finland weaved his hands through the soft, ash-blonde hair.

"He's alright. Noisy and moves around a lot, but he's alright."

"Then I'll show you what fantastic feels like," the smaller man whispered against the other's lips and though the kiss turned hard and dominant, it was somehow still so very sweet. Finland's lips were soft as cotton and tasted of strong vodka mixed with liquorice. They were smaller than Russia remembered.

Russia placed his hands on both sides of the Finn, moving a bit closer and making it harder to keep the kiss sweet. It was forced to grow rough, sloppy, uncontrollable. Finland's hands found his shoulders, his small and thin fingers travelling up the neck and reaching the jaws where they lingered for a long moment before they went to grab the cheeks, and he greedily deepened the kiss. His heart was thumping rapidly, nearly painfully, and it was hard to breathe in a controlled manner. He could feel Russia's skin erupt in goose bumps beneath his fingers.

Finally, the kiss ended when Russia pulled away, in desperate need of air. Finland's gaze was mischievous as it rested on the bigger man, his bulky chest quickly rising and falling.

"What's that now? Out of air already?" the Finn teased and lightly grabbed Russia's throat, his thumb brushing over the cold skin.

"Who have you done it with?" Russia asked, his voice a tad husky. Finland looked down at him for a few seconds before replying.

"Hungary." Russia's eyes widened a bit and his eyebrows perked.

"Hungary? Really?"

"Yup. She's wild, a real tiger. Wouldn't mind doing it again," he added and shrugged before putting a finger to Russia's lips when the man was about to ask another question. "But for now, it's you I want. You're going to be my bitch tonight."

With that, Finland sensually began to undress Russia, one layer at a time. He wore surprisingly few layers, considering it was autumn and they were in the northern part of Russia. The coat was the first to go, then followed the thick shirt under which a thinner tank top hid. When they were removed, the Finn investigated the other's body.

It wasn't much like he had expected. He had expected more muscle and not so much meat. But to hell with that, it was actually quite endearing. The skin was pale and smooth but here and there a scar could be found. Finland stretched out a hand to touch one a little above his navel. It was hard and stood out a bit. He could feel Russia shudder and his gaze flickered upwards, studying his face.

He looked uncomfortable, looking away and blinking more often than was necessary.

"What's the matter?" Russia didn't answer but momentarily looked down himself before mumbling something Finland didn't quite hear. For a moment, he considered asking again but figured it would ruin the mood. Instead, he slid down in front of the other, his hands splayed on the other's chest and a wry smile gracing his face. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned them around so that Russia was leaning against the counter, and he trailed his hands down the cold stomach, ending by the pants and beginning to fiddle with the belt. Not for a second did he break the eye contact, and it was easy to feel how the other got more and more lost in sensations and, possibly, fantasies.

Finland quickly got rid of the belt and looked at it for a couple of seconds, looking back up at Russia before putting the leather around his neck. In a spur of lust, he closed it, although it wasn't even near tight. It was much too loose to serve the purpose Finland wanted it to.

Oh, well.

His next goal was the pants and as he zipped down the fly, his eyes were once more on Russia's face. He had opened enough pants to know how they worked (although they had all been his own) – there was no reason to look. With confidence that few nations had ever seen, he pushed the pants down and relished in Russia's sharp inhale of air when cold brushed against his skin.

Teasingly, Finland ran a hand over the growing bulge in the other's boxers and was not surprised when he felt what was quite possibly the biggest length a man could have. It was to be expected. Russia was the biggest nation in the world. His equipment had to reflect that.

As he tugged down the last piece of clothing and ordered Russia to sit on the counter, he knew for sure that he was right. Eager to see what he was about to play with, Finland looked down and his eyes grew wide. Well, that certainly was worth paying attention to. And it seemed it had enjoyed it so far. The enormous cock was already erect and throbbing, twitching in Finland's hand when he took hold of it.

Russia inhaled air with a greedy breath with a sharp sound, his eyes falling shut. Finland chuckled and began to slowly pump the organ, feeling his own pants tighten a bit already. At some point, he was relieved he wasn't going to bottom for such a massive cock – he had no plan of being the submissive one – but on the other hand, the thought of Russia filling him was so delicious, so wrong that he couldn't help a shivering moan.

He felt a hand run through his hair and looked up, finding Russia's eyes swimming with lust and a tiny tingle of the well-known insanity. Finland smirked and pulled the foreskin back and forth a few times, savouring the sound Russia let past his lips. It was so soft and vulnerable, bordering to a whimper. He repeated the action, just a tad faster, and the hair in the back of his head stood on end by the definite moan Russia couldn't hold back.

So it was not only him that liked having this part played with.

"If you haven't been with a man," Russia began, his voice more shaky than before, "how do you know how good that is?"

"Hungary knows her way around males," Finland simply answered and teasingly blew some cold air on the Russian's cock, smiling with delight by Russia's shiver. Truth be told, he had never been with a man. But he wasn't nervous. He was looking forward to it, excited to try.

Finland lowered his head over the other's member, his lips first pressing a gentle kiss to the tip, his breaths coming in short through his nose. Russia had no distinct smell. How odd. He had thought that would be the case. He hadn't had any idea why, it was just a thought. Russia's breath hitched in his throat and he tightened the grip in the Finn's hair. Finland instantly moved his head back. He refused to let Russia – or anyone else – do that.

Russia seemed to understand even if nothing had been said, for he placed his hands back on the counter, leaning back heavily. The marble creaked vaguely. Now the Finn went back to work, glad about not having the big hand in his hair. His mouth closed over the cock and he gave it a hard suck, shuddering by Russia's throaty moan. He used his tongue to slick up the organ, licking it thoroughly and quickly became used to Russia's surprisingly many cute sounds.

He tasted nothing like the Finn had anticipated – sweet and not at all salty, as he had heard men did. There was a distinctive taste but he couldn't quite place it. Somewhere in between sour and sweet, he figured. He decided he liked the taste.

When he deemed this enough, he began working for real; bobbing his head up and down on the huge cock, he took it deeper and deeper for every time until he met resistance in form of his gag reflex. He took a few calming breath through his nose, tried to ease his heart to rest, before tryingly lowering his head another bit. The tip of the cock brushed the back of his throat, and even if he was long used to having it in his mouth, his throat instinctively contracted, refusing to let it go down any deeper.

"F-Fin," Russia panted and looked down at him, feeling sweat bead on his forehead and his arms shake, "i-it's okay, you don't have to-" The rest of his words drowned in a lustful cry when Finland forced his throat to accept the throbbing organ, eyes closed tightly and his mouth as open as it could. His breathing was quick but troubled as he could only do it through his nose.

This was satisfying. This much was enough. With a strangled sound, Finland lifted his head, almost letting the cock slip out of his mouth but still held the tip tightly caught between his lips. He looked up at Russia and saw the cutest blush tint his cheek a deep crimson. His lips were lightly parted and his chest rapidly rising and falling. Keeping eye contact, Finland repeated his actions, taking Russia deep, much deeper than should be possible for him, and gave it a playful lick or a hard suck every now and then, noting what drove the other particularly mad and what got him to let out which sound.

In the end, when Finland could feel the cock throb more and the thighs tense up, he let go. His hand unwrapped from the cock and with a last lick to the tip, he pulled his head back, flinging some bangs out of his eyes. Russia looked gorgeous, completely beside himself and panting. His face was bright red and his eyes glazed over with lust. His arms quivered.

"Undress me." Even as it was an order, his voice was ever so sweet and his eyes twinkled. Russia wasn't late in obeying. He slipped down from the counter – not in an elegant way – and began to fumble with Finland's clothes. Finland loved this. It was a kick like nothing else to have this much control of a man so much bigger than him – in whichever way you want to understand that. Maybe he should be just a little bit sweet to him…?

When the last piece of clothing was discarded and joined the growing pile beside them, Finland waited to see if Russia would make a move of his own. He did so by taking Finland in his arms, his grip tight and reminding Finland of bad times but he managed to let it slide. He could feel the other's cock brush against his own and his stomach. It pulled a slight groan from him and Russia chuckled. A cold hand wrapped around his cock and began to pump it. Finland sighed and twisted a nipple, making the other moan.

Then the Russian pulled his face close, connecting their lips in a searing kiss that got Finland's knees to shake and his hands went around his neck, pulling him closer and giving in completely, pressing himself against Russia's cold chest and feeling his rapid heartbeat. His own heart was fluttering and his cock pulsating, twitching in the other's big hand.

A wet and warm muscle was put against his lips, poking it and running over it to gain access. Finland denied it for a moment but a particularly hard tug on his cock got him to gasp and his mouth opened. Russia seized the chance and his tongue darted into the other's mouth, making them moan simultaneously as their tongues met and began an intense fight for dominance. It was a fight that took all their breath away and they had to break the kiss much sooner than desired to get air back in their lungs.

"How do you taste?" Finland asked him shakily.

"Not as good as I think you would," Russia answered and surprisingly gently nibbled at his neck, eliciting a vague sigh before Finland gave another order.

"Suck your fingers. I want you to prepare me, and do it real good." And who was Russia to deny it when a sweet and seemingly innocent nation asked that of him, with a voice so soft it could that of an angel?

Russia did as asked. Slipping one finger into his mouth, he eagerly sucked on it and coated in saliva before dipping another finger inside, all the time maintaining eye contact and not for a second neglecting Finland's cock, just as Finland didn't forget his. They slowly pumped each other, keeping them just on the edge without tipping them over. Just enough to keep the fire burning.

Their breathing was fast, superficial, and didn't provide them enough oxygen to keep them clearheaded. Finland's mind spun just a bit and he felt dizzy. He closed his eyes and leant back, finding himself against the wall. How they had gotten over there was a mystery he didn't care to solve.

After what seemed like an eternity, Russia took the fingers out of his mouth and he cooed to the Finn to make him open his eyes. It happened and cloudy amethysts found the other's gaze, the lips' smile reaching into the eyes.

"Are you ready?"

"More than ready," Finland answered. When he felt the first finger prod at his entrance, though, he felt a sudden rush of anxiety. For a second, he wanted to cut off the deal. He was not really sure he wanted this, all of a sudden, and he panicked when he felt the first digit slowly slip inside. His hands grabbed Russia's upper arms and the surprised Russian gently shushed him, brushing his face in an oddly affectionate manner.

It was a burning sensation he didn't know how to really describe. It felt weird, strange, not at all like this could ever pleasant. The finger pushed further inside and Finland buried his face in the Russian's chest, holding him tightly.

"It's okay," Russia quietly mumbled, kissing his lips to give him something else to focus on. Finland gladly accepted it but hissed when another finger moved in beside the first. What was this, how could anyone find this sexy and pleasant?! That place was clearly not designed to take in things! He could literally _feel_ how his ass tightened and clenched around the other's fingers, clearly trying to deny them access. Even through the haze of alcohol, it hurt. A burning, stinging sensation that got him to bite down on Russia's lips.

The bigger man growled lightly before purring. Two fingers were inside Finland and they didn't move for a while. He let the other get adjusted to them before he began sliding them in and out. Finland whimpered and his entire body quivered, his heart picking up a rapid pace. Why, why, why?! This was so not good!

But then, just as he was about to ask Russia to stop, the sensation changed. A jolt went through him and manifested in his thighs when Russia managed to work the fingers in and out in an actual rhythm. He gasped in surprise and cracked open an eye, looking up at the Russian who looked back down at him with a worried expression. But Finland hadn't said stop, so he continued. And the Finn nodded slowly, ordering him to go on.

That was what Russia did. Thrusting his fingers in and out of the smaller man, he worked to loose him up. Finland cried out lowly when he felt the fingers begin a scissoring motion, stretching him to make room for the third finger. When it entered, he arched his back and knocked his head back against the wall, biting back a wail. Oh god, this hurt… a lot more than he had thought. But he wasn't going to complain aloud; he had taken a lot more pain than this. He could easily endure this, it was nothing compared to what he had been through.

Finally, there was about no resistance and Finland was loose enough to slip in the third finger without too much trouble. Finland breathed quickly, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat as he adjusted to the added finger, hissing lightly. It wasn't painful anymore, though. Not that much, at least.

As Russia worked up the same pace, Finland felt the burning pain slowly die out, instead giving way for… something that sent shivers and pleasant jolts through him and got him to moan deeply. He was not sure what it was but it was definitely good. If Russia could do that again…

As if he had asked, Russia made the exact same feeling go through him and even chuckled when Finland fought to hold back a growl but without luck. Something was struck inside him, something that made his heart skip a beat and the breath hitch in his throat.

"That's good, Fin, you're doing great," Russia praised and Finland almost didn't notice what nickname the other had used. His lust-clouded mind couldn't find focus to complain and he only sighed when Russia continued to finger him.

"Hungary didn't use toys on you?"

"No," Finland answered and opened both his eyes completely, taken in the sight of Russia standing there, in front of him and prepared him for being fucked. Something he hadn't exactly thought would happen with this very man. This was so weird… He shouldn't even allow Russia to kiss him, and now, here they were, taking this all the way! He vaguely wondered what it would be like if their roles were switched, and on the minute decided he would do it later, when he had become more comfortable with this.

He had to have an idea about the process, right?

In truth, he was, of course, very much aware of what to do, but somewhere, deep down in his heart, he wanted to try this first. Willingly being taken by a man was usually frowned upon, yet he desired it.

The fingers left Finland, filling him with a feeling of longing and he closed his eyes again, knowing what had to come now. Russia gently put his hand over his and nudged the tip of his cock to the entrance. He didn't wait for confirmation before he pushed in and Finland let go of the member.

Finland had prepared himself for a lot of pain, lot worse than what this had brought him up until now, but it wasn't that bad, actually. The fingers had prepared him real good and of course it still hurt, because shit, that cock was bigger than three fingers – even Russia's – but it wasn't as bad as he had anticipated. He drew a sigh of relief, then one of pleasure as Russia immediately buried himself completely inside him.

The tight ring of muscle wasn't so tight anymore so it didn't take as much force but it was still enough to send jolt after jolt down Russia's spine and through Finland's body.

He winced when Russia pulled out and then thrust in deeply, hitting that special spot that had made him cry out before. Oh god, that was good. Soon, Russia had set a fast pace and he mercilessly drove himself as deep as he could into the Finn, feeling a deep, deep satisfaction by owning him in this moment. For now, he had Finland under his control and he loved it.

Finland moaned deeply when the Russian surprised him by drawing his teeth across his neck, playfully nibbling on the soft skin.

Then he was filled with the same devil-may-care approach he had felt in the bar and behind the lids, his eyes flashed with mischief.

In the blink of an eye, Finland had flipped their positions so that _he_ was pressing Russia against the wall. In the process, Russia had slipped out of him and although it had hurt, Finland didn't have mind to think more of it. Russia yelped in surprise and looked down at the other, eyes so wide open they nearly popped out.

Quickly licking his own fingers thoroughly, Finland kept the other pinned against the wall with the other hand and his gaze. It was hard enough to paralyze whoever fell under it and Russia was blushing fiercely, his usual cool gone. He was a mess of lust and arousal, and he almost whimpered when Finland didn't immediately fuck him.

But the Finn wanted to be gentle. At least a little. Russia had been good to him, so he owed being, at least, a little good to him, too. Wouldn't that only be fair?

Yet, he did start with two fingers, forcing them past the very tight ring of muscle. It made Russia gasp and growl out, both actions that got shivers to roll down Finland's spine and only drove him to repeat it. He pulled the slick fingers out a bit, then pushed them back in, this time a bit more gentle. Working the Russian open, Finland's breathing turned shallow and he was panting by the time three fingers easily slipped in and out of the bigger man.

Russia breathed out something in his own language and Finland didn't care enough to translate it. He slicked up his cock with saliva, seeing as they didn't have anything else around, and easily pushed into him. Russia moaned and leaned heavily against the wall, closing his eyes as Finland pulled out and thrust back inside repeatedly.

He found that while it was very different than having sex with a woman, there were also many similarities. It was tighter than with a woman and the other's body struggled more to adjust to him, even after having been pounded into quite a few times. Finland reached down to Russia's front and took hold of his throbbing cock, panting and mumbling under his breath in the language that deemed him an outsider in the Nordic group. His language. He didn't really belong with the Nordics; he was nothing like them.

The only thing he shared with them was the affection for coffee and alcohol.

Fleeing from these thoughts, Finland went deeper and drove his hips forward harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the abandoned house. He forced the Russian harder against the wall, the slightly mad side of him taking over and making him snarl when he found his teeth buried the other's shoulder, biting down hard. Russia wailed and took hold of his shoulders, his grip so tight it threatened with crushing the thin body. The Finn buried a hand in the soft hair in front of him, pushing the head into the wall and snarling, growling, like a beast.

He could feel it get closer. The tightness in his stomach was intensifying and starting to move lower, towards his crotch. Yet, he didn't quite want it to end yet. It was still so good, especially being in control. This was better than being submissive, much better. At least with him.

Although, if they were ever to do this again, he would maybe, just _maybe_, let Russia be the dominating one throughout the entire session.

_Maybe_.

Russia released in his hand before he knew of it and clamped down on him, making him choke on a breath of air, then moan loudly into the other's skin when he was also thrown over the edge, helped by Russia's orgasm. While Russia's seed dirtied them on the outside, Finland's was shot deep inside the other's body as he continued to thrust up, up and up, as if he wanted to make sure it never got out again.

Perhaps it was his instincts. Perhaps he was just so lost in the moment he couldn't help it. With the last roll of his hips, he sighed heavily and slipped out of Russia, stumbling backwards and finding the counter to lean against. As if chasing him, Russia staggered forward and captured the Finn between himself and the cold marble. He placed an arm on both sides of the other, still panting, and leant his head against Finland's sweaty forehead. A deep, red mark graced the Russian's shoulder where Finland had bitten him.

They stood like that for a while, regaining their breaths and getting their pounding hearts back in control. Somewhere during the process, Finland had taken his arms around Russia's bigger frame, holding him close.

Slowly, they could hear the other's heartbeat slow down and when it was back to normal, they looked each other in the eyes, unsure about what to do now. This was… awkward. When the lust and arousal was gone, they had suddenly done something really stupid, yet something really cool. Not even the alcohol could hide this.

Russia chuckled nervously and pushed back from the counter, letting Finland pick up his clothes and begin to slip them back on.

"Was that 'fantastic'?" he asked. Finland froze in the process of zipping up his pants. Was that supposed to be an insult?

"Yeah. Not good enough for ya?" he grumbled and grabbed his shirt, watching the Russian before the clothing covered his eyes. A pair of cold hands grabbed his slim waist and he yelped in surprise, quickly pulling down the shirt. Russia was smiling down at him. Without insanity in the violet gaze. The childishness was gone and left room for honesty and what Russia was really like.

"I'd say amazing. Amazing is better than fantastic, right? In my head, it is."

Finland gawked at him, mouth slightly agape. Really? Amazing? Well, that worked, too! Then he smirked and leant back against the counter once he was dressed again.

"Sure. We can say that."

Russia chuckled again and slowly leant closer, capturing the Finn once more. It was only done, though, to press a passionate kiss to his lips. This took Finland by surprise but he smiled into the kiss before returning it with just as much passion.

This had been good for him. He had enjoyed himself and at the same time made – much – better relations to the Russian. Not exactly in the way he had expected, and not exactly in a way that others would see fit, but they could go to hell.

No one was going to tell him what to do. Least of all Sweden.

Sweden could just get lost.

Finland didn't need him.


	4. Chapter 4

**It's okay, I didn't need my feels anyway. Last chapter.**

* * *

Neither Finland nor Russia had expected Sweden to find out about them as fast as he did. They didn't intend to keep it a secret if anyone asked but if they weren't bothered by questions, they wouldn't say out loud what they had done. Finland least of them.

Because even if he still fully believed that he had nothing to account for to anyone, he was a tad anxious about how the other Nordics would react if they found out. Only Denmark seemed to like Russia for more than his cheap alcohol, but even so, the Finn had a feeling he wouldn't take it lightly if it was revealed to him that Finland had banged his cold neighbour in the East.

Finland and Russia continued to hang out, living blissfully ignorant about how fast the rumour of their little 'bonding' passed through Europe. They had become so good friends that they joked with each other and Russia had even agreed to learn a little bit of Finnish. Finland, stubborn and proud as he was, still refused to learn the language his new friend used, though. He had explained why and Russia hadn't questioned it. He understood and frankly, after having forced him to stay at his house for quite some time, Russia had had an idea that Finland would most likely never want to learn Russian.

At the World Meetings, they no longer growled and snarled at each timer, nor did they ignore the other completely, as they had done before. They would, instead, chatter and debate mutually and when small breaks were put in, they could often be found hanging out together. The Nordics had – of course – noted the huge difference in relationship and despite being relieved that the possibility of another war between the two had dwindled, they were also a tad nervous. This nervousness, however, was directed at Sweden.

They couldn't see how he took it. He would send more and longer deadly glares at Russia but he wouldn't voice his disapproval of his and Finland's friendship. Occasionally, he would ask Finland over for a night of TV-watching and furniture-making and although Finland agreed every time and was always excited to spend time with him, he feared for the day where he might be rejected in favour of Russia.

That was possibly Sweden's biggest fear – that Finland would end up liking Russia more than him. The thought was unbearable and he tried not to think of it too often but sometimes, when he heard from Denmark how much fun the two alcohol-breathing nations had had together, he could feel his heart make a nervous and anxious jump.

In general, he was silent about this. He didn't actively do anything to hinder Finland and Russia's friendship but he most certainly didn't help it, either. Twice, he had been asked to hang out with them but he had declined. Spending time with the Finn was the best thing he could imagine. Spending time with the Russian was the worst. Combined, it would make the night dreadful but bearable.

Sweden wouldn't say anything about Russia when Finland was nearby, afraid to create bigger distance between them than what he felt already existed. Just as he didn't talk about Finland when Russia was present, if he could avoid it. He couldn't stand Russia's constant blabbering about how cute and sweet and entertaining the little Finn was, and it was horrible to hear him speak of the time they spent together.

However, it wasn't until Denmark told him that Finland and Russia had had sex together, that Sweden realized what this particular feeling was called. When Denmark explained how he had gotten his ears on this rumour – he had been told by Prussia, who had heard it from Hungary, who had been told by Poland, who had it from Lithuania who then again had heard it from Russia himself – he stopped finishing up the bookcase he had been working on for quite some time.

He stared over at the Dane who was gasping and panting. His face was bright red and shone with sweat, a hand tightly around the door knob, leaving the door open and cold air blew inside.

Sweden didn't understand.

"Have ya been runnin' over here?"

"Took the snowmobile. Faster and cheaper than the bridge, now that Øresund is frozen over. I just heard from Prussia that Finland has slept with Russia and I thought you ought to know-"

"_Why_ did ya think that?"

Why did he have to know that? Wouldn't it be better if he had lived in blissful ignorance for a longer time, preferably until his love for Finland had died out? If the passionate flame _could_ even burn out… He doubted it could. He just loved Finland too much and done so for too long.

"Why would I want t' know what Fin's doin' with Russia?" He forced himself to be calm and composed. But something gave him away, because Denmark clearly didn't fall for it.

"What he does is non' of m' business." Even if he wanted to have an idea about how Finland and Russia's relationship worked out.

"It's the love of your life we're talking about here!"

"Don't ya think I'm aware of that?" Sweden got up from his kneeling position, brush and spray in hand, and seemingly calmly moved over to the table with tools he used for making furniture.

"Aren't you shocked at all?" Denmark asked, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open just a bit.

Sweden looked at him for a long, long time. Shocked? That wasn't the word. Finland, the only person he had ever loved, the only person he would happily give his country to, the only person he would wish to spend eternity with, had slept with another man. And not just any man – the man he hated more than any, even more than Denmark, the man who had taken aforementioned love from him while laughing madly.

_How_ could Sweden _not_ be shocked? _How _could Sweden _not_ be…

"I'm devastated." His heart was hurting, physically hurting. Every beat was done in stinging pain. His mind didn't want to believe it; several theories of what could have happen whirled around in his mind. Maybe Prussia had been exaggerating? It was like that expression Denmark liked so much and used so often that even Sweden knew it by heart – en fjer bliver til fem høns, which roughly meant that a statement escalated every time it was told to someone.

Maybe Finland and Russia had simply… kissed or something. It would be just like Poland and Prussia to exaggerate. But even if it had only been a kiss, that was more than Sweden liked. It was way more than he had expected when Finland said they would become 'friends'.

Sweden would want to hear Finland's version of it. If Finland would even tell him. Maybe he hadn't wanted Sweden to know in the first place? If that was the case… then Sweden would once more be seen as wanting to get too close, wouldn't he?

Finland would maybe think that Sweden wanted to scold him for his actions. Sweden was not sure if he would do this or if he could control himself. One thing was for sure – it would be hard to look Finland in the eye whenever they met again. Knowing that Russia had looked into them with lust and that they had, maybe, glistened with that exact feeling, not for him, Sweden, but for Russia; a man he was renowned for having hated for such a long time. Knowing that Russia had… had actually _touched_ Finland, had made him emit sounds Sweden wished to pull from him. Knowing that Russia had had what Sweden longed for, even if he had only had it for a moment, was agonizing.

"Swe!"

The Swede looked up at Denmark and found shock printed in every feature of his face. Sweden looked back down when he felt a warm, tickling feeling in his right hand. Blood slowly trickled from where his fist met the table, surface cracked and shaped after his balled hand.

Finally, he had let it show. After years of holding his emotions for himself, he had finally let the mask fall and showed how he really felt about this. His gaze was fixed on the slowly pooling drops of red liquid.

Finland… lying with Russia. Finland's body… defiled by Russia's greedy touches. Finland… betraying him. It felt like betrayal. He knew it was stupid; he and Finland had nothing together, they were just friends. Sweden had no right to feel like this, it was ridiculous! Finland was a free man, he was free to do whatever or whoever he liked!

Then… why did it feel like this? Why did his heart ache so terribly, why did his breathing quicken and his glasses fog over? If Sweden had no reason to be this hurt, then why did he find Denmark's arms lightly wrapped around his bend body? Whose voice was it, then, that sounded so wretched it disgusted him?

Finland didn't have anything to prove to him. It was perfectly fine if he found those kinds of activities with Russia endearing but… Sweden's feelings wouldn't change. This cold hand that clenched his entrails in such a hard grip that they seemed to crush, his heart the most painfully, wouldn't let go.

"Swe…" The soft voice of Denmark reached him in between his own gasps and the rush of blood in his ears. There was no sign of the usual arrogance and superiority. It was all compassion and softness.

Warm water mixed with the blood, slid down his cheeks and blinded him even as the glasses were still on his nose. It dripped from his nose and into the pool that was gradually growing. His whole body shook and jerked with every pained sob that escaped him. He could feel the glasses be removed by a gentle hand. The world became even more blurry but he didn't try to retrieve them.

"How… how _could_ he," Sweden gasped and the other hand grabbed around the table. The wood gave an ominous sound. "He… he knows… what I feel for… for both of them… _why would he do it_?" The last sentence was whispered, forced out between broken breaths. It was all he could do right now.

Denmark didn't answer. He didn't know what he should say. Instead, he stood beside Sweden, an arm gingerly laid over his shoulder and the hand stroking his upper arm.

Sweden noticed that Denmark was warm… Not as warm as Finland, but warm enough to keep the cold of despair at bay, just for a second. Suddenly, feeling childish and disgusted by himself, he awkwardly turned his huge body around and pulled Denmark into a tight embrace. The other stiffened momentarily before loosening up again. Then he hugged the Swede back, soothingly threading his fingers through the soft, blond hair.

The bigger man's body jerked against his, shaken by sobs and occasional whimpers. His hands irregularly tightened their grip of Denmark's coat, curling tightly before relaxing again. He didn't know what had gotten into him.

Why was he suddenly acting all up? He was behaving like a little child that had lost its most precious teddy bear.

His breathing still came out hard and troubled when he slackened the embrace, giving Denmark room to let go if he wished to. But Denmark didn't. Denmark still held him, still stood there and watched him with painfully compassionate eyes. He shouldn't look like this. His face should shine of mischief, of happiness. His people were one of the happiest on Earth; Denmark should reflect that, even now. He couldn't see all this clearly as he was practically blind, but he could sense it. It was to feel when Denmark was beside himself, for whatever reason.

Sweden's problems were nothing Denmark should worry the least bit about. It was all his. There was no one who could do anything about this – except for himself.

Trying to get his shaking under control, Sweden lifted a hand to wipe his eyes. He was too slow, however. Denmark had already taken Sweden's head between his hands and now softly stroked the red cheeks and brushed away tears lingering in the corners of puffy eyes.

"F-Förlåt," the Swede whispered with a broken voice, averting his eyes so he wouldn't look at the other. This was ridiculous! Childish, immature.

"Intet att be om ursäkt för," Denmark answered quietly, the Swedish coming naturally for him. He continued his soothing touches until Sweden no longer panted. When the breathing was somewhat normal again, the Dane got the other sit down while he fetched a glass of water and a towel.

"Dricka." He put the glass in Sweden's hand and lifted the other so he could wipe away the blood. Sweden drank a bit of the water and placed it on the table, looking at what he assumed was Denmark's head. He couldn't be sure, though; all he could see was a big blob of light colours.

They were silent for a while. Denmark had found another chair and sat down in front of the other, making sure he was okay. Or, as okay as you could be when such devastating news had been delivered to you. Sweden occasionally hiccupped or wiped his eyes again, as if wanting to make sure all signs of his emotional breakdown were gone. He snivelled a few times, breathed deeply and slowly got his composure back.

He pondered whether or not to reach for his glasses. At one point, he wanted to see again, and at another, he wasn't sure he wanted to meet Denmark's face. What could it possibly be showing? A grin that said 'Boy, I didn't know you could whine like a five year old!'? Compassion to such a degree that Swede felt weak and pathetic?

He postponed the need of an answer a bit longer by muttering a hoarse "Tack", to which Denmark said a quick "You're welcome." His Swedish was apparently not as rusty as he had thought.

Few minutes later, Sweden emptied his glass of water and asked for his glasses. They were instantly in his hands and he put them on after having wiped them in his shirt. His right hand hurt.

Looking at the Dane he found neither of what he had expected. There was compassion, yes, a soft shine in his eyes but it wasn't so strong Sweden felt mocked. There was an understanding glimpse, as well, that said that he understood why Sweden reacted as he did. An almost straight line, the mouth, though with the shadow of the corners tugging upward, said that it was perfectly fine. He hadn't expected much different.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you," he mumbled and got himself a glass of water, refilling Sweden's when he was up anyway. "But I thought it would hurt you even more if Finland told you."

The very name made his stomach curl but he nodded as Denmark handed him his glass.

"Listen," he continued and moved a bit closer to the other, "I understand how you feel but if you think about it, Finland has been nothing but rude to you since this all started."

His eye twitched faintly but he didn't protest. Denmark had something to say; he could feel it.

"You only tried to protect from what you know Russia for – pain. In every single molecule of your body and every little crevice of your mind. That's what Russia does, in your opinion. You have never had reason to believe anything else and you did the most natural thing when you tried to hinder Finland in going there."

The Dane spoke slowly, the words clearly weighed carefully before rolling over his tongue. It was pretty clear that Denmark had no intention of hurting him. It was perhaps the thing he least wanted to do right now. Sweden was uncomprehending of why. He was used to mocking and jokes about him from the Dane. It was a mystery to him why he was suddenly being so friendly, determined to make him feel better.

"Finland responded with annoyance, if not directly anger, and he hurt you. I'm not sure if that was intentional or not, but no matter what, it was not fair to you. I understand that he wants his freedom but I don't think _he_ understands just how you feel about him and Russia being friends. I don't think he's aware of his importance to you."

Sweden frowned. But that was impossible. He had made it very clear just how much Finland meant to him, and he had made it pretty damn clear that he wouldn't want a life without Finland in it. How was it not possible to understand? But now, he was not so sure of that second thought. Did he still want Finland in his life now, after knowing what Finland had done? Could it be that he had only done it to prove a point to him, Sweden?

Was this some sort of bizarre test he had to ace before Finland would love him? Was Finland testing him to see how much freedom he could have?

"The other option is," Denmark continued and snapped Sweden out of his thoughts, "that Finland doesn't care about you. I know it hurts to hear, and I'm so sorry for saying it but if that is the case – then you should stop worrying about him. You do so much for him and he hasn't done anything for you. For almost a week, he left you wondering how he had taken your confession. Impossible to get in contact with, he could have done anything."

Sweden nodded. That was true. He had been so afraid when Finland hadn't answered the door or even his calls.

"I know you love him more than live itself, and I know you would do anything for him, but listen, Swe, you should be together with someone who acknowledges that. You deserve to be with someone who returns that love and passion. If Finland can't appreciate that, then he doesn't deserve you."

The words hurt. They hurt badly. Finland was the only person he had ever desired to be with. There had been no one else in his life but him, and now he felt how painful it was to realize that it would most likely never be returned. Not in a thousand years.

Yet, Sweden knew that he would never stop loving Finland. No matter what scenario he could think of, his love for Finland would be intact. Even if Finland and Russia should… should… should become a couple, Sweden's burning love wouldn't die out.

In that moment, when Sweden realized anew he was hopelessly and endlessly in love with Finland, the man himself barged inside the house, a wild look in his eyes. He saw first Denmark, then Sweden. His eyes widened and his opened mouth closed, a word dying on his tongue.

The silence was tense enough that it could be cut through with a knife. Denmark looked from one man to the other, slowly sliding down from his chair before leaving the house. Finland looked after him for a second before Sweden also got onto the floor, straightening into his full height.

"Have you been crying?" Finland asked quietly after having studied the Swede's face.

"What would I have t' cry 'bout?" Sweden asked. His voice was perfectly calm and collected, as it always was. It carried no signs that he had cried not too long ago.

Finland hesitated and bowed his head, biting his lower lips. The Swede stared down at him, awaiting his answer. How as Finland going to answer? Would he try with a lie? Would he confess immediately? Say that he had wanted Denmark not to tell Sweden what he had been doing with Russia?

But the Finn never got to answer. Sweden grew tired of waiting. This kind of waiting was one he wasn't good at.

"Denmark told me 'bout ya 'n Russia."

The Finn's head immediately rose.

"What did he say?"

"Said ya slept with Russia." '_Please, tell me it isn't true. Tell me it's a misunderstanding!'_

The man breathed deeply and already there, Sweden knew there was nothing to do. It really was true. Finland had had sex with Russia. Now there was no way to deny it, not even to himself. His heart silently wept. His eyes remained dry.

"I… I did. But I'm not in love with him or anything, I just… we were drinking, and… and one thing led to another, and…" He trailed off, not knowing what to say. Sweden's glare was as scrutinizing as ever. He held his tongue.

"I know you don't like him and all, but… Ber-"

"Please don't use m' human name."

The violet eyes widened enormously. Finland took a step back. His mouth opened slightly.

The cold hand was once more clenching Sweden's insides in such a hard grip they had to break.

Using a country's human name was a great, great honour. Being forbidden to use it was a sign of the opposite.

"I'm hurt. I know ya 'n I will never have anything but it hurts t' know ya're so good friends with him." There was nothing to do about it, he knew that. Finland had made great progress with his relationship with Russia, clearly, and he would never throw that overboard for Sweden.

And strangest of all was it that Sweden didn't want him to, either. Finland had spent so many years hating that guy, so when they had finally made up – even in an untraditional way – Sweden didn't want to ruin it for Finland.

"Would ya do it again?"

He was just asking for a punch to the stomach, just asking for Finland to crush the last remains of his heart. But he had to know. He didn't know why, he just _had_ to know if Finland would have sex with Russia again.

_He could fall in love with me. _

"I-I don't know. I hadn't exactly planned to do it but… I just don't know, Swe. I can still call you that, right?"

Sweden nodded and let silence fall upon them again when Finland didn't immediately continue to talk. After a minute of silence, he finally did so.

"I swear, Swe, I would never have done it if I was sober. I was drunk and angry with you. My mind told me it would be a good way to…" He suddenly cut off, a hand flying up to cover his mouth and his eyes widened another bit.

Sweden squinted and his glare intensified. To what? What had Finland stopped himself from speaking? To get revenge? A good way to get back at him? A good way to make him jealous?

"I don't know what ya were 'bout t' say but I think yar mind was right."

"I… I'm sorry." It was but a whisper that filled the entire kitchen. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Bu ya did. A lot. I haven't been this hurt for a long time, Fin."

_I could make it happen, da._

Before he knew of it, Finland flung himself directly at Sweden and wrapped his thin arms around the bigger man's body, holding him tightly and burying his head in the other's clothes. Sweden was paralyzed for a second, then he couldn't help but return the embrace, pulling the small man close and leaning forward just a bit. He smelled so good. Fresh air, snow, a whiff of liquorice. The faint, almost unnoticeable scent of vodka.

Finland… his sweet, little Finland. A bird always in search of new adventures. It could never be. Sweden had had his adventures. He was too old, too settled for that. His mighty wings had long since been spread for the last time.

There was nothing to do but let go.

* * *

**Translations:**

_F-Förlåt = S-Sorry_ (Swedish)  
_Intet att be om ursäkt för = Nothing to apologize for_ (Swedish)  
_Dricka = Drink_ (verb) (Swedish)  
_Tack = Thanks_ (Swedish)


End file.
